


All Men Have A Price

by Graceful_Storyteller



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Assisted Suicide, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Violence, Humiliation, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-10 17:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graceful_Storyteller/pseuds/Graceful_Storyteller
Summary: 5 years ago Loki of Jotunheim was executed for raising an army against Asgard.At least, that is what everyone has been led to believe. King Anthony of Midgard's arrival with a disturbingly familiar slave is about to throw everything the court of Asgard were told into question.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my WIP folder for far too long. Not sure what else I can say about it, apart from that if you can get to the end of chapter one it's much smoother sailing after that.

“Which one do you think is the king?”

Hogun frowns as he scrutinises the procession of knights slowly snaking their way towards the gates of Asgard's Royal Palace. “None of them.”

Fandral huffs. “Come now old friend. One of them _must_ be the king.”

Without looking away from the puzzle before him, Hogun replies, “None of these knights are wearing a crown. They're also not wearing the king of Midgard's coat of arms; a golden phoenix on a background of black and red.”

“What about- Ah, no, that's an eagle. And that's a lion.” Fandral hums contemplatively as he leans forward against the battlements. “You may have a point; I can't see a phoenix anywhere. So where do you think the king is if he is not riding with his knights?”

“The carriage.”

“Really? How odd. Are kings not warriors on Midgard?”

“They are.”

“Then why not ride on horseback like a warrior? I would have thought the king would want to make an impression with his first visit to Asgard. So far I am feeling rather underwhelmed by this supposedly devilishly handsome tyrant.”

“I doubt it's your high opinion the king seeks.”

“Was that a joke Hogun? Well, today truly is full of surprises.”

The first of the Midgardian knights pass below them and the end of the royal procession comes into sight. Carts laden with gifts for Asgard's royal family and the king's own possessions, driven either by servants or the slaves Midgard is infamous for. Hogun feels his lip curl in disgust at the thought. Personally, he does not believe Asgard should lower itself by once again allying with a nation that thinks owning another human being is part of the natural order. However, it is not his place to question King Odin's judgement. He is a knight of the realm; his place is to serve, and that is exactly what he intends to do.

“Come my friend,” Fandral says as he claps a hand to Hogun's armoured shoulder. “This is no longer the ideal place to gawk at the newcomers. I believe the courtyard will afford a far more pleasing view.”

With a nod of assent Hogun follows the other knight. By the time they arrive the courtyard is already packed with grooms to attend the horses, servants to attend the foreign nobility, and more local nobility who (like Hogun and Fandral) have come to see if King Anthony is all he is rumoured to be.

“This looks like a good spot,” Fandral says as he manoeuvres himself out of the crowd. “Ah, is that Volstagg I spy? Does he look abnormally pale to you?”

“Yes,” Hogun answers. “And he is not the only one.”

Volstagg had been granted the honour of greeting the king at Asgard's main port and, along with a contingent of palace guards, escorting him through the city. Hogun knows a number of those in the honour guard; they are not men of soft hearts or weak stomachs. Yet each one looks disturbed, as if he witnessed something at the port which will haunt him for life. That something (if their furtive glances are anything to go by) is currently residing within the curtained confines of a carriage painted red and black with a golden phoenix emblazoned on the door.

“You're right. Do you think the king is actually a horribly disfigured wretch? Or maybe the lady he brought with him? I hadn't heard that he was married but perhaps...”

The door to the carriage opens and Fandral trails off into silence as a man steps out into the golden summer sunshine. The king is indeed devilishly handsome. Young, fit, and stylishly dressed in the finest red and gold robes, he offers a winning smile to the assembled crowd. The ladies hum their approval and whisper something about the iron crown forged from the broken swords of his enemies being far more elegant than they had imagined.

Those whispers quickly turn to gasps of horror when the king's companion exits the carriage.

“By the gods!” Fandral hisses. “I thought Loki was dead!”

It takes Hogun a moment to connect the barefooted man before him with King Odin's former hostage. The last time he'd seen Loki had been on the battlefield a little over five years ago. Back then he had sat tall on his horse at the front of his army, his armour glowing in the low winter sun. Even when Prince Thor had crushed his rebellion - that same armour covered in dents, blood and mud – he had still walked towards the dungeon with a straight back and defiance in his eyes. Now? Now there is only a vacant, hopeless look in those legendary green eyes. For the first time in his life Hogun feels something other than dislike for the would-be king. It does not take a genius to see what misfortune has befallen Loki over the past years to crush his pride. The bands around his ankles, wrists and throat mark him as a slave – but not just any slave. The bands are gold, as are the thin chains braided into his long hair. There are marks on his back (clearly visible through the near-transparent fabrics of red and gold which cover his torso, crotch and legs) which could only have come from the whip. Then there are his lips – red and sore from recent misuse – and the bruises caused by human teeth. No, it does not take a genius to understand what finally broke Loki.

“I believe he wishes he was.”

***

“And then he said, 'Pirate? I'm not a pirate! Me and my men only boarded your ship without permission to ask for directions!'”

Prince Thor grinds his teeth as King Anthony and the lords of Midgard laugh heartily at the conclusion of his tale. What the prince wouldn't give to ram his fist into the face of this arrogant king. Or, better yet, to smash his whole skull in with his war hammer. Unfortunately, neither of those actions are currently available to him. The tight grip of his mother's hand upon his wrist is an order he cannot misinterpret.  _ Hold your tongue and your temper _ . 

Theoretically, Thor understands the queen's desire for his silence. This is a banquet held in King Anthony's honour. Even if it was not an affront to the gods to harm any guest whilst he dinned at your table, it would be seen as an unforgivable insult to verbally disembowel the guest of honour. Thor has never been one for measured words when his blood boils; he should let his parents resolve this issue. Yet neither of them has even attempted to bring up the subject. They have invited this talking piece of human detritus into their home and broken bread with him and  _ completely ignored the fact that he keeps Loki as a sex slave.  _

Thor is eternally grateful that he is unable to see where Loki is knelt by his master's feet. The brief sight of him as he entered the feast hall had been enough to make Thor sick to his stomach. For the last five years the prince has felt nothing but sorrow over Loki's death. The last words they had exchanged had been ones of anger on the battlefield. Thor had called Loki a traitor, had spat at the ground as Loki was led away, he had even disowned him as the brother Thor had always considered him to be. Up until today Thor would have done anything to learn that Loki was alive so that he could apologise. To Thor Loki is still his brother, even if they are not related by blood, and he should never have claimed otherwise. But after seeing what has become of his brother? Thor is starting to think it would have been better if he really had been executed five years ago. 

“Are you not a fan of pirate stories Prince Thor?”

Thor twitches at being directly addressed by the monster at the table. “No,” he grunts when the queen's nails dig into his flesh.

“That's a shame. I know many pirate stories, and at least half of them are true!” Again the Midgardian lords laugh as their king flashes Thor a smile. “Well, if you don't want to hear exaggerations of my heroic deeds then perhaps you will share with us some of yours?”

“I respectfully decline.”

“A modest prince – how odd. What about you King Odin? After your disagreement with my father, gods rest his soul, he refused to talk about you. Surely you must have some good war stories to tell that have failed to make their way across the sea?”

“Of course I do. Have you heard the tale of the Battle of the Troll Bridge?”

“No, do tell.”

As Odin begins the familiar tale, Thor forces himself to be calm. It will not be long before he can make his excuses and leave this wretched feast. 

It is at that point that King Anthony coaxes Loki to sit in his lap. Thor stares in horror as the king picks a morsel of food from his plate and presses it to Loki's lips. Without hesitating the slave wraps his lips around the king's fingers and swallows. Those fingers, slick with saliva, caress Loki's lips before returning to the plate to repeat the process. Odin does not once stumble over his story. 

Thor slams his palms down onto the table as he jumps to his feet. “How can you sit there and allow this?” he rages at his father. “How can you act so calm when this monster brings someone you once fostered into your hall and treats him like a dog?”

“Sit down and be silent,” Odin growls.

“I will not! I _cannot_! Even if it were not Loki I would speak up against such barbarity. Slavery has been outlawed in Asgard for centuries. Where is your honour that you would allow-”

“_Enough!_” Odin roars as he too rises to his feet. “I will not be spoken to in such a manner in my own hall. Know your place Prince Thor.”

Trembling with suppressed fury, Thor meets his father's gaze in a silent battle of wills. 

Surprisingly, it is King Anthony who is the first to speak. “If you had a problem with my slave all you had to do was say.” He snaps his fingers at one of the palace guards and beckons him close. “You, take my pet to my rooms and ensure that he is properly fed.”

After a quick glance at Odin the guard obeys the order. Loki rises from the king's lap, his blank expression not once wavering as Anthony gropes his behind and pushes him away. The king picks up his wine as if nothing unusual has happened. 

“So, who would like to explain what that little explosion was all about?”

Slowly, Odin seats himself back in his chair. “Your slave is from Jotunheim, one of the Eight Kingdoms I rule over. Asgard conquered the land when he was a boy. I brought him into my household to keep his father, Jotunheim's defeated king, docile until the boy was old enough to govern in his place. But as soon as I appointed him governor he raised an army against me. After he was defeated I gave orders to have him executed for treason.”

“Clearly you gave your orders to another traitor or my pet's head would be on a pike rather than his lovely body.” The king sips his wine before adding, “That still doesn't explain why your son has taken such offence; surely he should be pleased by the traitor's new social station?”

“Loki was my friend before he was a traitor,” Thor growls, still towering defiantly over the king. 

“That must have made his betrayal hurt that much worse. So I'll ask again: what _exactly_ is it about this situation that has provoked your ire? Is it that I brought a slave to your father's table or that I brought _this _slave?”

His mother's hand clamped around his wrist is the only thing restraining Thor's temper. “Loki deserved an honourable death befitting someone of his rank. He does not deserve what you have done to him.”

The king's lazy smile is that of a predator. “Clearly someone else believed otherwise.” With that he turns to Odin and says, “I apologise for causing your son such distress. If I had known my pet was so beloved here I would have left him back home so that the unpleasantness we just witnessed could be avoided. Unfortunately I was not informed of his connection to your household, and now that he is here there is nothing that can be done to-”

“You could free him.”

The smile drops from the king's face, his eyes becoming colder than the darkest winters in Helheim. “You should know, King Odin, that there is only a certain amount of disrespect I am willing to tolerate. Your son is treading dangerously close to the threshold.”

“Sit down and be silent Thor,” Odin growls. 

“No.” For a brief moment Thor's heart rejoices as his mother joins him on her feet. His hopes are crushed, however, when she continues, “My son is still in shock from learning of Loki's survival. As am I. I think it best that we both retire. Please excuse us.”

Before Thor can protest the queen takes his arm and steers him from the banquet hall, not slowing her determined pace until they are far enough away to not be overheard. 

“I know you are angry Thor.”

“I am more than angry Mother-”

“But that does not mean you have the right to start a fight with one of your father's guests. Especially with _him_. Have you not heard the tales they tell of him? When his father died he decided to show his strength by executing any noble who dared suggest he would be anything other than a great king. Their deaths were not quick Thor. He tortured and publicly humiliated them, then ransomed the bodies back to their families.”

“So what? I am not afraid of that monster.”

“You might not be but _I am_.” 

She stops and turns to her son, her eyes shinning with both fury and tears. 

“You think it does not hurt me to see Loki like this? He might have been your father's hostage but from the moment I saw that terrified little boy I have loved him as if he were my son. It broke my heart when he rebelled against your father and you were forced to fight him. And when I heard he had been executed...” Her breath catches in her throat and Thor takes her hands to steady her. “But today I found out that my son is not dead. I found out that while I have been mourning my loss he has been suffering. He has been transformed into the possession of a tyrant and there is nothing I can do to help him.”

“That can't be true! There must be something we can do! We can demand he return Loki to us and-”

The queen laughs bitterly. “If he demanded you give him your favourite hunting hound because it was a runt he ordered drowned many years ago, would you hand it over to him?”

“What?”

“Answer the question Thor.”

“Of course not.”

“Why?”

“Because the hound is mine. He gave up his claim when he ordered it drowned.”

“King Anthony will say the same thing if we demand he return Loki to us.”

“Loki is not a dog!”

“No, but he is a slave. To a man like that they have the same value. Your demand will be taken as a grave insult and the best we can hope for is that he leaves in peace.”

“It would give me great pleasure to go to war with a man like that.”

“I'm sure it would. I'm sure you would love to break my heart a second time by dying or, worse, by falling into that monster's clutches.”

“I would kill myself first.”

“And leave your father without an heir?”

“If I was a slave that would not cancel out my claim to the throne. Better to be dead than to allow that monster the right to rule Asgard.”

“If he defeated you in battle he would simply _take_ the throne. Your father would not have enough men to protect it, especially if all those dissatisfied with his rule chose that moment to abandon him. Then King Anthony would be ruler of Asgard and the Eight Realms, your father would be dead, and I...” 

Thor squeezes her hands reassuringly. “Do not think such thoughts Mother. Such a tragedy shall never come to pass. Asgard and her armies are strong, her people full of fire and fight; we would never fall before such a monster.”

“Oh Thor,” she sighs. “My son, there is much your father and I have kept from you. Our armies are not as strong as you believe them to be; our people may be full of fire but that fire is rage against the crown. Our best weapon-smiths have thrown down their tools in protest – there is famine in Nidavillir and they refuse to work until their families are no longer starving. Alfheim may likewise join them as their harvest has been poor this year. In Muspelheim and Svartalfheim there are rumours of revolutionaries stirring discord. In Vanaheim there is a plague that has claimed the lives of many. And in Jotunheim... The pain we have caused is still fresh and they will throw what little strength they have into any cause that will bring us to our knees. With so much unrest throughout the Eight Realms it will not be long before the empire tears itself apart.”

“Why was I not told of this?” Thor demands. “If I had known I would-”

“Have marched into Muspelheim and killed any who so much as whispered dissatisfaction with your father? Threatened to crush the skulls of the weapon-smiths' families if they did not work?” His mother smiles, wry yet fond. “You are very much a blunt instrument Thor and, right now, that is the last thing the kingdom needs. We need the people to love us, not hate and fear us. We need _food_ and _medicine_ and _weapons_. Why else do you think your father invited King Anthony here?”

“Because Midgard has an abundance of food, medicine, and weapons.”

“_Exactly_. We need the help of our neighbours now more than ever. You know your father Thor: do you really believe he would break bread with the son of a man he despised if he was not desperate? Do you really believe I would _condone_ the presence of a slave-owner at my table unless there was no other option?” She takes Thor's face in her hands and he leans down so that she can press her lips to his cheek and whisper, “Asgard is in peril and thus we must make distasteful alliances. Once she is strong again we will unite the Eight Realms by giving them a common enemy. We will show them the face of the monster in Midgard and we will send our armies forth to bring back its head. Until then we must exercise _patience _and _humility._ We must surrender our pride and take every humiliation and transgression with a smile, secure in the knowledge that one day our enemy will pay dearly for everything he has done.”

“But until that day comes Loki will continue to suffer.”

She swallows hard and says, “Loki is strong. Trust that he can survive this; trust that he is not so far gone that we cannot bring him back to us. We must have faith that this will not end in tragedy. The gods are not so cruel that they would show him to us like this with no hope that we can save him.” She kisses him again before taking a step back. “Will you think on what I have said? Do you believe it is enough to make you more hospitable to our guests come morning?”

Thor's hands curl into fists but he forces himself to nod. “I am a prince of Asgard and the Eight Realms. You and father have taught me well that personal feelings must be put aside for the good of the empire. I will do what I can to control my temper until the time is right.”

The queen smiles. “I am glad to hear it.” She pauses, her composure faltering for a moment. “I am going to pray. Will you join me?”

“I am not very good at praying, except for victory over my enemies.”

“Victory comes in many forms my son.”

For the first time that night Thor finds himself smiling. “You are right Mother. Let us pray.” 

***

“Here is the poison you requested My Queen.”

“Thank you Zig.” 

The deep green vial is small enough to be hidden from sight when Frigga curls her hand into a fist. It has been three days since the foreign king arrived in her home and Frigga's conscious can no longer bear the weight of her guilt. She cannot sit idly by while Loki suffers unimaginable horrors at the hands of that monster. She has heard the idle chatter of his soldiers, of the things he has been known to do to his slaves to encourage obedience. She has so far managed to keep Thor oblivious to such talk, but she has no idea how much longer her distractions will work. Another reason her conscious has prompted her towards this drastic course of action. Who knows what will become of her son and her people if Thor allows his righteous rage to consume him? It is with a heavy heart that she has come to the decision that she must kill one son to save another.

“Good luck Your Highness,” whispers Zig. “I will wait here for your return.” 

The maid pushes open the secret passage and Frigga steps out into the living quarters of her guest. As she moves towards the bedroom she sees nothing hinting at the depravity which must occur in these rooms. An empty carafe of wine, a pair of soiled boots, a book half read. All normal items meant to give the impression a normal man resides here. All meant to lower her guard so that she is unprepared for what she finds in the bedroom.

It is not as terrible as she expects. Loki is naked, but the marks on his skin are old. There is no fear or pain in his eyes, only surprise at her unexpected appearance. He hastily drops to his knees and prostrates himself before her. Frigga walks over to him and slowly lowers herself down to his level. She caresses his cheek, tenderly tilting his face up towards her. “Loki, you do not need to do this for me. Please, look at me.” Reluctantly the man's eyes focus on hers. She offers him a heartbroken smile, the tears already starting to well up behind her eyes. “I am so sorry this has happened to you Loki. I wish I could slay the monster who has done this to you and set you free, but I cannot. Our country requires his aid; as much as I love you I cannot sacrifice the needs of my people for one life. But I also cannot bear the thought of your suffering. That is why I have come – I can offer you a way out of your pain.” She holds the vial of poison out to him. “Drink this and you will slip into a painless sleep that you will never wake from. I'm afraid that is the best I can offer you. Please forgive me for not doing more sooner.”

Loki stares at her open palm. Slowly, he curls her fingers back around the vial. “This slave appreciates your kindness, but cannot accept such a gift. It is this one's desire only to serve his master.”

“I understand,” Frigga whispers, the first tears silently trailing down her cheeks. It is as she secretly feared; Loki is too far gone to save.

She places the poison on the floor and draws the man into a fierce hug, just as she had the day he left to become governor of Jotunheim. Loki had promised her he would write often, that it was not goodbye forever; yet he had hugged her back just as ferociously. Likely he knew even then that his words were lies and that, win or lose, the rebellion he had planned would end in their permanent separation. 

She felt such sorrow and such pride that day as she watched the boy her heart had claimed as its own ride off to fulfil his destiny. It had hurt when she learnt he had turned his back on Asgard. News of his execution had caused her further pain. None of it compares to the agony of seeing him broken, of learning that the Loki she knew is dead and all that remains is this shell. Mourning him will be no easier this time around.

With a tremendous effort Frigga releases the stiff form in her arms. She again takes Loki's cheeks in her hands and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye Loki. I wish you luck in your new life. May the gods protect you and one day offer you a seat at their table.”

Frigga collects the poison and rises to her feet. She is already heading for the secret exit when Loki's subdued words cause her to pause. “Thank you for your blessing. And your forgiveness.”

Without looking back Frigga replies, “You were always a son to me Loki. There is little I would not have pardoned if only you had sought my forgiveness.” 

When her words are met with nothing but silence she hastily retreats to her rooms so that she can be alone with her grief. 

***

Odin waits until he is certain his wife has drifted into a deep slumber before rising from their bed and calling his manservant to dress him. Flanked on either side by his personal bodyguards he makes his way through the deserted halls to the guest quarters. There he is greeted with silent nods by King Anthony's own guards as they open wide the double doors for him. Leaving his bodyguards to wait in the corridor, Odin steps inside and surveys the reception room as the doors are firmly closed behind him. King Anthony's head rests in the lap of one of his slaves as she reads aloud from a well-worn book. There is a half empty carafe of wine on the table before them. The door to the bed chamber is closed and there is no evidence that any others are present. 

At the sound of his approach King Anthony opens his eyes. “Good evening Your Highness. I was beginning to think you had changed your mind.”

“I have not,” Odin asserts softly. “You will understand that a certain level of discretion is necessary.”

“Of course,” the man replies with an oily smirk. “Can't let the family discover you aren't as dismissive of slavery as you claim.”

Odin represses the urge to wrap his hands around the man's throat. Such an act will not gain him what he seeks. 

The king stands and straightens his tunic. “I'm sure you're eager to begin so I won't delay with further pleasantries. Follow me.”

Slowly, Odin approaches the bed chamber. He holds his breath as the other monarch pushes open the doors, and he is met with the sight he has been dreaming of these last few nights: Loki stripped bare, his back to them, his limbs held in the spread eagle position by silk ropes attached to the large four-poster bed. The slave's head is bowed, his expression hidden by his long hair, but the tension in his shoulders is enough to stir something in Odin.

“He's been prepared for use as per our agreement.” King Anthony walks over to one of the travel chests in the room and opens it to reveal an array of instruments of torture and discipline. Odin feels himself harden at the sight. “Feel free to use any of these. Remember: no permanent damage. I'll be waiting in the next room for when you're finished.”

“Why? Do you not trust me to hold to our agreement?” Odin questions, allowing a little anger to slip into his voice. 

“This isn't about trust – it's about loyalty,” the other king replies seriously. “I've always found that slaves are much more eager to please when they are reminded how much worse life could be for them. It would be remiss of me not to show my precious pet how much I care for him; to let him know that if he ever falls out of my favour this could become his eternal fate. Being a treasured pet is far more desirable than being a means of relieving frustration, don't you agree?” When Odin does not respond the man grins. “Exactly. I'll be waiting outside.”

With that the other monarch leaves, closing the doors behind him. Odin takes a moment to push the man and his arrogance from his mind. He does not want that son of a whore to ruin his night. 

Sufficiently calmed, Odin turns his attention onto the bound slave. He wound not put it past King Anthony to provide a lookalike and keep Loki for himself. Climbing onto the bed, he grasps the slave's chin and tilts back his head until he has a clear view of its face. Familiar green eyes meet his with the same look of dawning horror that they held five years ago. There is no mistaking who this man is, and that he is completely at Odin's mercy. 

A smile devoid of warmth curls Odin's lips. “Has your master informed you of the bargain we struck during our hunt three days ago?” 

“Yes Your Highness,” the slave answers in an unsteady voice, unable to meet his gaze. “My master has gifted this slave's body for your pleasure until the dawn of the new day. In exchange any rebels taken captive during your glorious war will be gifted to my master as slaves.”

“Correct. Can you guess how I intend to take my pleasure?”

“This slave would not presume to know a king's plans.”

Odin chuckles as he releases Loki's chin. “You have changed a great deal since I last saw you, boy. A change, I think, for the better.”

Climbing down from the bed, Odin casually makes his way towards King Anthony's chest of treasures. So many choices, so many beautiful instruments of punishment. He runs his fingers contemplatively over the items as he struggles to decide where to start. 

“When I first saw you I regretted the choice I made all those years ago,” he announces distractedly. “I feared that I had sent one enemy into the arms of another and they had formed an unholy alliance against me. But I have been watching, and my spies have been watching, and everything seems to be exactly as it appears. You are a broken shell of the man you use to be and King Anthony seeks to do nothing more during this visit than offer aid at extortionate prices. That, I can handle. You know first hand that I am well versed in dealing with fools blinded by greed and pride.”

His hand settles on the bullwhip. He carefully removes the item from the chest, admiring the quality of the leather as he tests the grip. He gives it an experimental flick and hums at the satisfying crack it makes. He repeats the motion, noticing the way Loki flinches at the sound. 

“I hear when you came to King Anthony that you were still the same spoilt, prideful child that darkened my court. You thought that you were too good to serve him – that your place was on a throne instead of on your knees. I hear he took great delight in divesting you of that delusion. First he broke your body and then your spirit. I would have loved to have been witness to such a spectacle. Sadly I must be satisfied with delivering the punishment for daring to challenge me to what is left of the great King Loki Laufeyson.”

Odin moves into position behind Loki and readies the bullwhip. The satisfying crack of the first blow is nothing compared to the sound Loki makes as the tip strikes his back. 

The second is even better than the first. 

The whip flies through the air and leaves beautiful marks on the already scarred canvas. Loki's cries become sobs and the sound of his suffering goes straight to Odin's groin. He delivers a few more lashes before pausing to rub at the stiffness in his breeches. 

Loki uses the respite from his punishment to gasp, “Please! Please, no more. Have mercy!” 

Dropping the whip, Odin strides over and grabs Loki by his hair, twisting his head back until he can clearly see the dampness on his cheeks and in his red-rimmed eyes. 

“Do you believe yourself deserving of my mercy?” 

“No Your Highness. But I – but this slave is well-versed in the art of pleasure. This slave hopes you will remember that in devising your next punishment.”

Odin presses up against him, causing Loki to bite back a scream at the pressure on his bleeding wounds. “You are presumptuous in thinking that I desire your body more than your suffering.” He does not deny his desire – even with his back aflame Loki will surely be able to feel how hard he is. Such desire is unusual for him; Odin has never before felt attraction to men or to the suffering of others. It is only Loki who causes this reaction in him, whose tears replace his desire for vengeance with a desire for flesh. Even as a child his agony was the most beautiful thing Odin had ever seen. He'd buried those thoughts back then, suppressed his need to have that boy beg for his mercy. He need not suppress it anymore. 

“I did not- This slave did not- _Please_!” There is panic in his eyes as he babbles, “My master says my mouth is far superior to any maid or whore's! He says I am the tightest creature he's ever fucked! I am a sight to behold on my knees! I was made to be stuffed full of cock! Please, Your Highness, this slave has learnt its lesson and wishes only to serve! Please give me your cock and I will fulfil your every desire! I swear you will not regret it!”

A satisfied smirk slowly spreads across Odin's lips. “Very well Loki. Since you begged so wonderfully for it I will allow you to have my cock.”

“Thank you!” he says, sounding genuinely relieved. “Thank you Your Highness. You shall not regret this.”

“I best not or you will find out just how much pain the human body can endure without being permanently damaged.”

Odin makes quick work of releasing Loki's restraints. The slave drops bonelessly to the floor, releasing a pained cry on contact. He pushes up onto shaking knees, slowly turning to face Odin. His cheeks are flushed and he is unable to meet Odin's gaze. Perhaps there is enough of him left to still feel shame. Odin hopes that is the case – this will be so much more satisfying knowing it is costing Loki something to debase himself this way. 

“First I will have your mouth. If that pleases me I will sample what is between your legs. If I am displeased you will be punished severely.” 

Loki nods and reaches for Odin's breeches. He takes him in hand and releases him from the tight constraints. Leaning forward, he licks at the tip and then down to the base. Odin threads his fingers into those dark locks and moves that mouth where he wants it. Loki opens wide and swallows. 

That is when the bullwhip wraps itself around Odin's throat. 

Wide-eyed and panicking he tries to cry out for his guards - but nothing except a strangled grunt escapes. He attempts to reach for his assailant but whoever he is is strong and all Odin's struggles earn is Loki biting down on his cock. 

Pain battles with terror as a sharp kick to the backs of his knees brings Odin down to Loki's level. It takes his struggling brain a moment to work out that is who he is looking at. Gone is the broken, desperate shell of a man; in its place is a grinning demon with eyes full of vengeance.

“It was worth every minute of pain, fear, and humiliation to get to this point. To get to kill you with my own hands.”

Odin can only watch in horror as Loki produces a knife from the bed behind him. As if on cue, Odin's assailant drops the whip and steps away; but before the king can draw breath Loki is on him with the knife. Odin lands on his back as his former hostage plunges the blade repeatedly deep into his chest with an almost bestial snarl. 

The world slows as the Goddess of Death comes to claim her prize. Out of the corner of his eye Odin catches King Anthony watching with something like grim satisfaction. The man waits a beat before adopting the role of shocked bystander and shouting, “Guards!”

The Goddess arrives – terrible and beautiful as Odin always knew she would be. She leans down and covers his eyes with her hand, plunging his world into darkness. She presses her lips against his ear and whispers with Loki's voice, “Revenge never tasted so sweet.”


	2. Chapter 2

***5 Years Ago***

“Where is your noble son Odin?” Loki taunts as he is forcefully escorted before the gathered citizens of Jotunheim. “Is he too much of a coward to see what he put in motion come to an end? He was too craven to kill me on the battlefield and now he cannot even watch a headman swing an axe. Tell me: are you sure Thor is a man and not a maiden hiding under that ridiculous beard?”

The crowd does not laugh, but those who hear Loki's words do smirk and give him small nods of encouragement. Loki returns the smirk tenfold. His imminent death has made him bold; it has made him light-headed and giddy as if he were drunk. For the first time he can say whatever he pleases without fear of the consequences. He does not need to bow and scrape, he does not need to thank Odin for ripping him from his family and taking him as a hostage. He can call the great King of Asgard and the Eight Realms a tyrant and monster without fear that his mother will be harmed or his homeland burned to the ground. At last the burden of protecting Jotunheim has been removed from his shoulders. It has been a heavy burden, placed there by his father when he was but a child. But now he is _free_ of it, and of Odin, and of having to pretend to be somebody he is not. He is not the mild-mannered prince of nothing he was in Odin's court and he is not the warrior king the people of Jotunheim needed to start their rebellion. He is Loki and soon he will be free to be whatever that entails.

Odin ignores him as Loki's guards position him at the front of the stage erected specifically for his execution. The fallen prince takes a theatrically deep breath and sighs in satisfaction. He can taste the violence in the air. The second his life expires this place will erupt. He might not have been able to lead a successful rebellion but at least the fight for independence won't end here. The people will keep fighting long after his death and he will be remembered fondly as a martyr who died for the noblest of causes. Minutes before the end, Loki cannot think of a more comforting thought.

“Loki,” Odin booms, silencing the murmuring crowd. “Son of Laufey and Jotunheim. You stand here guilty of treason against Asgard. You have turned against those who raised you, protected you, loved you-”

Loki snorts derisively. At last Odin turns towards him and his gaze is as dark as storm clouds.

“You have raised armies against your king. You have raised your weapon against your prince. You have abused the position of power graciously bestowed on you. For that you have been judged and will now receive the only fitting punishment for such crimes. You shall be stripped of your title, your honours, your birthright. You shall be cast down and become the lowest of the low. You shall lose what you seem to value most: your freedom. From this moment on you shall be a slave whose sole purpose in life is to kneel and pleasure your master. I believe you refer to them as bed-slaves in theses parts.”

The rioting starts before Odin finishes his speech; the moment the guards draw daggers and begin to cut away Loki's clothes the people cry out with revulsion. Soldiers beat them back from the stage as Loki stares in horror at the self-satisfied look on the king's face. “You can't do this!” he screams as his naked form is dragged to the stairs. “You can't do this to me! The queen won't allow you! _Thor_ won't allow you!” For all his faults Thor is a good man and would not wish this fate on his worst enemies, let alone someone he once treated like a brother.

Odin follows them off the stage. “You are correct. If they knew what I had planned for you my wife and son would indeed beg me to reconsider. But they do not know and never will. They will hear that you walked proudly onto that stage and did not flinch when the executioner's axe fell but once. Only your people and my most loyal soldiers will know the truth. And once the initial anger fades your people will be too broken by the knowledge of what happened to their hero to rise up again. From this day forth your name will be associated only with shame and what happens to proud, arrogant boys who fail to appreciate their place in life.”

Loki allows rage to consume him so that he does not have to taste the fear at the back of his throat. “You are a monster and one day I will take my revenge. I will make you pay for this and every other insult you have made against me.”

“I don't think you will,” Odin replies almost gleefully. “Your new Master has quite the reputation in Midgard. I doubt it will take him long to beat that defiance out of you. My only regret is that I will not be there to witness the moment you break and beg for his cock so that he will spare you the whip.”

Loki is silent as he is dragged away to be prepared for his journey to his new Master's home across the Midgardian Sea.

***

“How many more petitioners are there?” Tony asks as he takes a bite of his apple.

“Just one,” Rhodey answers. “A flesh merchant by the name of Master Kretchner. From the sound of it he's in the middle of a nasty dispute with Lady Carina of House Silverfish. She's also here to give her side of the story.”

“Without her husband?”

“Her husband is currently...indisposed.”

Tony turns to stare curiously at the bodyguard standing beside the plush sofa he is currently reclining on. “I'm going to love the tale she spins aren't I?”

“I couldn't say My Prince,” Rhodey replies, fighting a smile. 

“Okay, now I'm intrigued.” He finishes his apple and throws it aside for one of the slaves to clear. “Send them in.”

The guards open the doors and moments later a plump young woman, a balding man in practical finery, and a slave in chains are escorted into the reception room. The merchant and noblewoman bow respectfully as the slave is forced to his knees by the noblewoman's personal soldiers. Tony looks over the slave with interest when he notices the man has been muzzled. His body is covered in fresh bruises, his hands and ankles shackled and connected by chains. His modesty is secured only by a plain loincloth and his eyes... Oh, the defiance in those eyes. Tony would love to fuck that defiance out of him. 

Pepper, her head resting in Tony's lap, sighs and shifts so that she is sitting beside him on the sofa. She leans into the arm he places around her shoulders and whispers, “Focus. You don't yet know what the pretty slave has done.”

Knowing she's right, Tony pulls his mind out of the gutter and says, “Master merchant, I hear you have need of the crown's intervention on a matter. Please state your case.”

“My Prince, this woman is being unreasonable. I take great pride in my reputation as being one of the greatest trainers of pillow slaves in Midgard, and I take it as a personal offence that I may have sold her husband a slave that had fooled me into thinking it had learnt obedience. I have apologised profusely for the lapse. I have offered the great Lord Silverfish a full refund _and_another slave to replace this one if he so desires. Yet this is not enough for his wife! She believes that she is entitled to more – to a sum that will ruin me! My wise, just prince – please tell her that I have been more than generous and that what she asks is an absurd price to pay!”

Tony turns his attention to the noblewoman. “What do you have to say in response?”

Her face the dictionary definition of seriousness, the noblewoman replies, “The slave bit off my husband's cock.”

A laugh bursts out of Tony before he can stop it. “Truly? He bit it off?” His eyes travel towards the slave; there is a distinct air of smugness in those bright green eyes.

The noblewoman sighs. “He made a valiant attempt. The healers say it is damaged beyond repair. My husband had that slave for two weeks and now he is confined to his bed. In pain, rather than pleasure.”

Tony fights a grin. He's starting to like this woman. 

“My husband bought this slave believing it was well-trained and would not harm him in an escape attempt. Because of this flesh peddler's shoddy goods my husband is no longer able to conceive. We have not been married long enough for me to be graced with a child, and now that shall never happen. I shall never be able to give my husband a son and heir. When he dies, which may be soon if his wounds become infected by whatever lives in this savage's mouth, then I shall be cast out of my home by my brother-in-law. I shall lose all that I have through no fault of my own. Do you not think I should be compensated for this? Is it truly so unreasonable of me to ask that the cause of my misfortune pay damages for what his negligence has done?”

“My Prince-”

Tony holds up his hand to cut off the merchant's protests. He presses his mouth to Pepper's ear and murmurs, “It's not unreasonable in my opinion.”

“I agree,” she murmurs back. “But be careful about setting a precedent. If all the nobles come making such claims our economy will suffer. Perhaps you can offer her something other than money? Her brother-in-law is no friend of ours; why should he be the only one to benefit from this situation?”

Tony's hand runs over the exposed plain of her stomach as he replies, “That's exactly what I was thinking.” He kisses her (deep and satisfying) before returning his attention to his audience. “I have thought on what you have said and made my decision. The Master merchant will return to you the payment made by your husband for the pleasure slave. You will not bother him again with 

demands of compensation.” He smiles at the look of dejection on the woman's face, a sharp contrast to the smugness of the merchant's expression. “You will not need to bother him as I will sign a decree that upon your husband's death all his lands and titles shall fall to you. You shall keep your home until your death when the deed shall be handed over to whichever heir your brother-in-law has produced by then.”

The noblewoman's face breaks into a grateful smile as she bows low. “Thank you Prince Anthony. It truly lightens my heart to hear such a judgement fall from your lips.” Her gaze drifts towards the still shackled slave and Tony's grin takes on a predatory shine. 

“Ah yes. Now all that is left is to decide the slave's fate. I take it you and your husband do not want him back Lady Silverfish?” 

“No My Prince.”

“And the Master merchant has already proven that this slave does not respond well to his training methods. I think therefore he should be placed into my custody. I know _exactly_ what to do to quench the fire in those eyes. Do you not agree Master merchant?”

The flesh peddler looks much less smug than he did moments ago. “The slave is yours to break Your Grace.”

“Excellent.”

Tony locks gazes with the slave. The look in his eyes promises Tony that he will bite off his cock at the first opportunity. Tony really shouldn't find that as arousing as he does.

“Have the slave taken to my Pillow House. You can take off the chains and muzzle there. My other slaves will make him understand why attempting to escape is the last thing he should do.”

As the guards drag the slave to his feet and out of the room, Pepper sighs dramatically. “_More_ competition for my handsome prince's affections.” Her hand lands deliberately on his crotch. “It seems I will have to work harder to keep your attention.”

Tony grins. “You will indeed.” He glances at their audience. “You're dismissed.”

The merchant and noblewoman bow low before exiting the audience chamber. As soon they are gone Pepper moves her hand to her own lap and Tony removes his arm from around her shoulders. “A very productive afternoon,” she says as she stands and readjusts the plunging neckline of her dress. 

“Does that mean I'm free to go?” Tony asks hopefully.

Pepper pins him with the sort of reprimanding stare no pillow slave should give their master. “You have made a lot of promises and edicts today. Once you have put your royal seal on the documents which will see these come to life _then_ you will be free to go.”

Groaning, Tony slumps back in his seat. 

“I would have thought you'd appreciate the distraction while your present to yourself settles himself in,” says Rhodey. 

“Appreciate is a strong word.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “This is your plan. Prove to the king that you can handle his duties while he is indisposed so that when he returns he will grant you more power. Alternatively, if he cannot recover from this sickness, then you-”

“Will have made enough friends and consolidated enough power to secure a successful transition onto the throne,” Tony finishes for her. “I'm pretty sure that the majority of this is your plan – you know I would never purposefully do something which resulted in more work for myself.”

Fluttering her eyelashes in an entirely false act of submission, Pepper replies, “My prince is far too generous to this humble slave. All credit for anything this slave may do or dream belongs completely to my most magnificent master.”

“You're mocking me,” Tony says, pointing a finger at her. “Rude.”

“She does make a valid point though,” Rhodey chimes in.

“You're ganging up on me; also rude.”

“You shouldn't make it so easy,” Rhodey says with a grin. 

“Enough,” Pepper interjects with her own fond smile. “Putting off the paperwork doesn't make it disappear.”

“Fine,” Tony huffs. “Let's get this over with. I have a slave I need to introduce myself to.”

***

“How are we feeling today?”

Loki takes a moment to contemplate his answer. “Better,” he says softly, not moving his gaze away from the vast gardens of the Pillow House. 

“I'm glad to hear it,” Jan says, sounding nothing less than genuine. “My mother always said that when a person is comfortable in their outfit they'll be comfortable in themselves.” 

Unconsciously Loki's hand begins to play with the cuff of his jacket. Like his trousers it is second hand and designed for a larger, bulkier man than he. Yet, for the first time since he was stripped bare before his people, he feels comfortable in his skin. The familiar scent of leather has helped silence the terrified scream inside his mind which has accompanied him across the sea from Jotunheim. Being again wrapped in its protective embrace reminds him of a time when he was more than a possession; when he was a warrior and a king and a man with a purpose.

“Your mother was a wise woman.” 

“She was,” Jan agrees in the wistful tone usually reserved for talking about dead loved ones.

Loki tries not to think about his own mother who died while he was in Asgard as Odin's hostage. She'd caught a chill during a particularly harsh winter and expired soon after. He had not received news of her passing until the following spring. He'd tried to hide away in his rooms until the initial wave of grief had receded enough to let him breathe. Odin had other plans. He'd wanted Loki to attend every lesson and complete every chore as normal under the watchful eyes of the court. Only Queen Frigga's heartfelt pleas had earned him a day to grieve in peace. After that, when he was ordered to return to his regular routine, she had made her parlour a safe space where he could bury his face in her skirts and shed tears without judgement. That and Thor's constant attempts to make him laugh over the next fortnight are what got him through that trying time. 

“What are you looking at?” Jan asks as she comes to stand beside him. 

He resists the urge to flinch at her proximity. “The prince spent the night with the Valkyrie. They now appear to be having relations in the bushes.” 

Jan releases an amused snort as she spots the twitching limbs sticking out from behind the rosebush. “If you stick around you'll soon learn that the garden isn't in the top ten weirdest places Tony's had sex.”

There are a few things Loki would like to dissect in that sentence, but the one he chooses is, “Why do you call him Tony?”

“Because that's what he said I should call him. There's no need for formality among friends.”

“He's your master, not your friend.”

“Can't he be both?”

“No.”

Jan sighs. “Of course you wouldn't get it. You were royalty in your previous life.”

“How did you know that?” Loki asks, more than a little taken aback. 

“The way you talk, the way you hold yourself, the way you look down on everyone – when you're not in survival mode it's glaringly obvious.” She smiles to let him know she isn't judging him. “I'm guessing you were raised to believe you were better than all us mere peasants? To believe your life was worth something. The same can't be said for the rest of us in the Pillow House. Even those of us who didn't grow up in poverty knew how little our lives meant to those in power. If we ever displeased them we could easily be out on the street begging for scraps. So slavery? Not always such a terrible fate compared to the alternative. If you get a master that just sees you as a piece of meat then, yeah, that's worse; but if you get a master who is actually kind? Tony falls into that category. He's not perfect but he tries to treat everyone fairly. Some of us have a better life here than we would if we were free. I imagine you can't see it that way. Being a slave is probably the worse fate imaginable to you.” She pauses but Loki has no words. “Go tell Tony you want him to free you and he'll do it. He's done it before. He lets his slaves choose and if they say they want to leave he'll fake their death and have them transported out of the city. If they choose to stay he makes it worth their while. Don't believe me? Go ask him now if he'll let you go.”

Loki continues to stare for a long moment before offering her a solemn nod. “Thank you for your counsel. You have given me much to contemplate.”

“No problem.” She reaches for his shoulder but thinks better of it. Her hand drops to her side and she offers him a gentle smile. “If you need anything else let me know.”

He watches her depart before returning his gaze to his new master. Perhaps his situation is not as dire as he believed. 

***

“I'm sorry, I must have misheard,” Tony says as he puts down his goblet. “Could you repeat-”

“I require your aid in assassinating King Odin of Asgard.”

His eyes slip shut as Tony releases the biggest sigh of his entire life. “Yeah, that's what I thought you said.” He returns his gaze to Loki, his newest and most vexing slave. “What makes you think I'd be willing to offer my aid?”

“I've been speaking with the other members of your harem, learning their stories, and apparently you made a deal with each of them. You asked them what it would take for them to willingly lie with you. They named their price and you did everything within your considerable power to grant them their deepest desire.” 

The muscles in Loki's shoulders tense and Tony guesses he is tightly gripping the hands hidden behind his back. 

“I have thought long and hard regarding what I want most from this life. I use to believe it to be freedom. I have always longed to be free from the scorn of others; free from the oppressive yoke placed on my shoulders by their expectations and plots. I thought I wanted to be my own man, but that was the poetry of a heart that had yet to experience the true depths of human cruelty. I was a boy who thought he knew the rules of the game he played – who was guaranteed a satisfactory outcome by those rules. I was wrong. I had not considered that my opponent would be willing to cheat, that I would be changed from a king to a possession at the whim of another. Now that it has happened there can only be one acceptable purpose to my existence: revenge. I must pay back all those who have wronged me with blood and suffering and a slow death. Many of them are your subjects and it will hardly inconvenience you to place me in their paths. Odin, however, is the main target of my rage and the hardest foe to vanquish. That is why I have named him, specifically. Get me close enough to him to put a blade through his good eye and I will give you whatever _your _heart desires. I do not care how long it may take or what I must do to take my vengeance. Swear to me that you will do everything in your power to give me what I crave and I will do the same. That is the bargain I wish to strike with you.”

He pauses, considering Tony with those enchanting green eyes.

“Do we have a deal?”

He should say no. The rational part of Tony's mind knows that this is an absolutely terrible idea and he in no way should be considering such a bargain. And yet, he can't help but think there is a story here that he needs to hear – that if he listens to Loki's tale he will be compelled to help him. Not just for Loki's sake but for his own. So far his grand plans for the future have not reached much further than his own father's death and his rise to kinghood. Perhaps it is time to look beyond that to his rule? How one manages their relations with their neighbouring monarchs is an important part of ruling, and it might just be that Loki is an unexpected gift in more than one way.

Tony kicks out the chair beside his own. “Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I want to hear more about Odin and Asgard before I make any promises.”

***

The bells toll the death of the king and everyone is forced to bow their heads in silent prayer. Loki doubts there are many truly mourning the king's passing. From what he has learnt over the last few months even Howard's son and has nothing but anger and resentment for his father. Anger at the injustices committed against the prince and the people alike, and resentment that the king has moulded Tony into the monster he is. His words. 

Loki and Tony have shared many a conversation where the former prince has fallen too deeply into his cups and allowed unguarded words to pass his lips. Stories of love and loss; of a soft-hearted prince who was forced by his controlling father to build a suit of armour around his heart to protect it. The soft heart was still there and it found small ways to show itself, but that did not stop its owner from doing terrible things to protect himself and the ones he cared for. Things that filled him with guilt and things which didn't. Some cruelties he had come to enjoy and that scared him more than anything. 

It is a fascinating tale and its teller is no less intriguing to Loki. They have yet to finalise their bargain and Tony has sworn that he will not touch Loki until they are both satisfied with the terms. Loki is surprised to find that he believes him. He is even more surprised to find that he does not fear the day he truly belongs to Tony. He is in no way looking forward to it, but the more time he spends with the now king of Midgard the less terrible such a fate seems. 

***

“I can't believe you're actually going through with this.”

Tony waits until he is certain Loki is out of hearing range before grinning and attempting to play it off as a joke. “Have you seen that ass? I'd walk over hot coals for a chance to tap that.”

Pepper glares at him from her perch on the edge of his desk. “If your plan to kill King Odin fails it won't be just Loki who loses his head. Being a king yourself won't save you. And what will happen to your kingdom? We just finished quelling one coup and you want to start another? You have no heir – there will be civil war!”

Tony valiantly resists the temptation to sigh. “Pepper, you've known about the deal I made with Loki for over a year - why are you only questioning it now?”

“Because I didn't think you were mad enough to go through with it!” 

Slowly, Tony rises and walks around the desk so that he can place his hands on her shoulders. “I meant what I said to Loki. I will send saboteurs to the Eight Realms to sow the seeds of dissatisfaction with Odin's rule. If they fail, if they do not elicit enough unrest to make Odin desperate enough to invite me into his home, then I will stop. The reward of having Loki submit to my every whim is not enough for me to risk inciting a war with Asgard. I promise to be careful, to ensure that nothing can be traced back to me, and I promise that I won't make any big moves without consulting you and Rhodey first. Will that in any way put your mind at rest?” 

Pepper purses her lips as if readying herself for another tirade, but instead she sighs and says, “I'm just worried.”

“It's alright,” Tony says as he pulls her into a hug. “I won't let anything happen to you. To any of you.”

“You better not,” she huffs before hugging him back. 

After a few moments she gently pushes against him and Tony releases her.

“We don't have long until the High Priest arrives; we should go over what you're going to say to him.”

“Apart from 'bend the knee and keep your minions in line or I'll relocate your head to the crows' perch above the ramparts'?”

A smile flickers across Pepper's lips. “Yes, apart from that.”

***

Eventually they finish their negotiations and set the agreed plan into motion. The only way for Loki to get close enough to Odin to take his revenge is if they make all of Asgard believe that Loki is no longer a threat. If they can convince Odin to let down his guard, to be alone with his once enemy, then Loki can do exactly what he has spent many a long night dreaming of – and the only way to achieve that is if he makes them believe that he is nothing more than a broken sex slave. To do that Loki needs to learn to hide his discomfort at being stripped bare before others. He needs to be unshakable when others stare at him, when they laugh at his humiliation, when they touch him without permission. Most importantly he needs to learn how to obey Tony's commands. 

It is not easy to place himself in another's power. He has too many bad memories of being forced to submit to gladly fall into the role he knows he needs to play in order to achieve his heart's desire. Tony is nothing but patient and understanding. 

There are many in the Pillow House who are willing to contribute their skills and knowledge. The Valkyrie and the Doctor supply him with ways to manage and control pain. The Spy coaches him on his acting and close-combat fighting. Jan paints his back with scars to add depth to their ruse. Pepper shows him why Tony agreed to never bed her in exchange for her talents when she refines their strategies for maximum devastation.

By the time Odin extends the hand of friendship Loki has come to value all of them and their odd ways. In the beginning he had secretly harboured the hope that when he had taken Odin's life he would be able to turn on his _master_ and pay him back for all the pleasure he took from their _bargain._ Now, however, he finds he has little taste for a double regicide followed by a suicide. He has become...fond of Tony and their games. The king never asks too much of him, has never pushed him beyond his limits. He has even helped Loki to rediscover a love of the flesh that he'd thought lost to him. It is not love (they are both far too broken in their own ways for it to be love) but there is a companionship – a kinship- that Loki is loathe to lose. It is similar to what he once shared with Thor, in a sense, only he and Thor never had any desire to be lovers. For all that he resents Thor for what his family has done that does not mean that Loki never appreciated his kindness or cared for the big oaf. They are brothers in all the best and worst ways. Even if Loki is the only one who still views them that way...

***Now***

“How did your talk with the queen go?”

Loki is a mess of bruises and broken bones. The guards who had pried him from Odin's corpse had been given no reason to be gentle, and only Tony's demand that he be left alive for interrogation had prevented them from using deadly force. Luckily Tony's magnificent harem had prepared him well over the years to withstand pain as well as to keep a straight face when his insides burned with humiliation. Tony would never have sanctioned this operation if he didn't believe Loki was a truly superb actor. 

Tony takes a seat beside Loki's sprawled form on the feather bed. He carefully runs his fingers through Loki's loose curls, smiling when Loki leans into the comforting touch. Tony suspects at least one of Loki's eyes is swollen shut rather than simply being rested. At least the guards have not damaged his jaw or throat to prevent him spinning his spellbinding tales. 

“I told her everything,” Loki murmurs softly. 

“Everything?” Tony queries sceptically. 

“Mostly everything,” Loki amends. “I didn't mention your interference within her empire.”

“What was her response?”

“She said that although in private she will gladly decree what I have done is nothing short of the gods' own justice, in public she must condemn me as a king-killer. Still, to prevent a war she is willing to let me return with you to Midgard so long as I never again step foot on Asgard or the rest of her Realms. Also, you will clean up the rebellion our actions will no doubt spark for free.”

“The queen drives a hard bargain. I'm not sure if I can accept doing it for free.”

“I'm sure Pepper will grant you permission if you ask nicely.”

Tony glares down at Loki's smirking face, not that the bastard can see it with his eyes shut. 

“What about Prince Thor?”

“The queen will break the news to him as gently as possible. I'm sure she will do her own creative editing to lessen the blow to his mental image of Odin as a good man and great king and you as a demon sent to bring chaos to this peaceful place. Still, I imagine he will accept whatever she decides with as much grace as he is capable.” 

“That's not a lot.”

“No, but I think we have placed enough doubt in his mind that he will allow us both to leave unharmed – so long as you do not provoke him.” 

“You suck the fun out of everything.”

“Oh?”

There is a mischievous curl to Loki's smile and Tony is reassured that he is not attempting to hide some hidden hurt. Well, no more hurt than he usually hides.

“That is something to think about when we return to Midgard. You need to heal, and then we need to look again at the terms of our bargain.”

Loki opens his one good eye. “Why?”

“Because I think your outlook on life may have changed over the last few years. I think it would be beneficial to both of us to reconsider what we want from each other going forward. I don't want to reach for too much too fast and sour what we have.”

A soft smile graces Loki's lips. “A wise decision My King.”

“My King,” Tony finds himself smiling back. “I like the sound of that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I find myself falling out of the MCU fandom I'm currently looking through my WIP folder to see if there is anything I can tidy up and post. This is one of those fics. The plan was for it to be much longer and focus more on the events in Midgard, but I've lost my inspiraction. There was enough to post though so I hope you enjoyed it (if enjoyed is the right word?).


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